


10 months anniversary

by scredgirl



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Communication, Domestic Fluff, F/F, dont let the title fool you it's not really about an anniversary, in which i give free rein to my soft bitch streak, some drama, wine over feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-24
Updated: 2019-04-24
Packaged: 2020-01-31 07:24:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18586534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scredgirl/pseuds/scredgirl
Summary: Sometimes, when you can't make someone jealous, you have to wonder if they really do like you after all.





	10 months anniversary

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to Cheyenne for her advice and encouragement writing this! Your beta skills are unparalleled.

Philippa shuffled through the pile of parchment on her desk. A strand of hair fell in front of her face, and she huffed at it impatiently. She had been handling paperwork for the better part of an hour and she ached to be doing anything else, anything less mind-numbingly boring than this. She reviewed and signed letter upon letter appointing this minister, calling for this policy to be rewritten, all the mundane things that required her approval as regent that she wished someone else could handle but couldn’t afford to put in the hands of a subordinate. She noticed her foot tapping and shifted in her chair. The damned business had been put off long enough, so she would suffer it until it was done.

Sweet-smelling chestnut hair brushed over her shoulder as Triss leaned down from behind her chair to kiss her neck. She didn’t lift her gaze from the note she was reading about the Ministry of Finances’ latest bill, but a soft sigh escaped her lips.

“I’m working, dear.”

“How is it?”

“Dreadful.”

Triss ran her fingers down her arm.

“Why don’t you take a break?”

“I need to finish this first.”

“Or, you could finish it later.”

Triss’s arms wrapped around her chest and her mouth was on her neck again, eliciting a mixture of irritation and desire.

“Triss, this is hard enough to stay focused on without you distracting me.”

“Mmm. I’m counting on it.”

Philippa steeled herself to suppress the urge to postpone the paperwork some more. She caught Triss’s face with one hand, drawing her closer so she could place a kiss on her lips.

“Not now.”

She pushed Triss away from her desk and resumed her reading.

Triss sank down in her armchair and picked up her book. Not a minute had passed before she got back up and set an imperious hand on Philippa’s desk.

“Do you even want me around?”

The question didn’t come unexpected. It was frequent for the younger sorceress to seek reassurance after the merest rejection. Philippa was inured to it.

“Triss,” she wiped the dried ink off her quill and dipped it in her inkwell, “you’ve been living in my home, sleeping in my bed for the past…” she paused to initial the piece of parchment in front of her. “Ten months. Does that seem like I don’t want you around?”

“But you don’t _care_.”

Philippa set her quill down and turned in her chair to look up at Triss, whose chin was scrunched up and arms tightly folded across her chest.

“Where is this coming from?”

Triss seemed to hesitate, biting her lip. She looked away briefly.

“Remember the other day, when I told you… about this mage I’d met,” she started.

Of course she remembered. It had been less than a week ago, when Triss had put on a contrite face and pulled at her fingernails as if she’d been about to confess some great treason. Philippa had listened with apprehension, but as it turned out, all Triss was guilty of was sleeping with some mage at a seminar Philippa hadn’t been interested in attending. She had sighed in relief, taken Triss’s hand to stop her fidgeting and laughed as she asked her not to give her such a fright over nothing next time.

“If you’re still feeling guilty about it, I told you already…”

“I don’t feel guilty.” Triss interrupted. “Why aren’t you angry with me?”

Philippa rested her face on one hand and drummed her fingers on her desk.

“I didn’t think my _not_ being jealous would be a problem.”

“It’s strange that you aren’t.”

“Do you want me to be? I can try, if it will please you.” She grinned.

“See!” Triss's voice shot up in vindication. “This is what I mean. It’s just a game to you.”

“Right.” Her patience was thinning, but she kept her voice even. “Well, this particular game is not very amusing. I’ll go back to something less tedious, like this paperwork.”

She reached for her quill, but Triss was quicker. She held it out of Philippa’s reach and glowered at her. It was almost endearing, Philippa thought, her indignant red cheeks, the way her brow creased and her gaze tried to burn holes in her.

“Keep it. I have others,” she said, waving a dismissive hand at the quill.

“You…” Triss’s lips twisted in anger. She slammed the quill back down on the desk, hard. “You think it’s so simple because you don’t _care._ Always so detached and unfazed. But that’s not right. You’re _supposed_ to be upset. You would be, if I mattered to you.”

“I will be if you keep this up.” She noticed her foot was tapping again and shifted in her chair. “Either tell me plainly what you want or let me work in peace.”

Triss’s hands clenched into fists, but she remained silent. Philippa noticed the shine in her eyes and the tightness around her mouth as she attempted to control the tremors in her chin, and thought to say something to placate her. Before she could find the words, Triss turned and strode stiffly out of the study, slamming the door behind her.

Philippa sighed and picked up her quill. The nib was bent. She opened a drawer and took out a new one before resuming her work. It was pointless to try and reason with Triss when she was in this state. She hoped her mood would have run its course by the time she went to find her. In the meantime, Philippa was not in the habit of trying to guess at her partners’ thoughts, so she put Triss out of her mind and resolved to deal with one chore after the other. There were papers to sign first.

 

* * *

  

Philippa found Triss curled up on a sofa in the solarium. A book was open in her lap but she was staring into a corner of the room, fidgeting with the beading on the cushion her hand rested on.

“What are you reading?” Philippa asked as she sat down next to her on the sofa.

Triss closed the book and looked at the cover.

“Daughters of the Gale,” she said coldly.

“Have you taken an interest in Harpies?”

“Not really.”

She was avoiding her gaze, so Philippa leaned forward to get a better look at her face. Triss threw a sideways glance in her direction. She was scowling still, and her eyes were glacier blue from all the red around them.

“What?” she spat out.

“Tell me what your problem is,” Philippa demanded.

“I already did.”

“Not in any way that made sense.”

Triss turned to face her, her voice almost a snarl.

“What doesn’t make _sense_ is how you can be so indifferent about me, yet still claim you want me.”

“I’m not…” She recoiled at the accusation. “Listen. It’s… Sweet, I suppose, that you sought to make me jealous, but what you do and who you do it with when you’re not with me is no concern of mine.” Her voice held its usual sharpness. She made an effort to sweeten it as she continued, “it matters to me that you’re here now.”

“You don’t understand.” Triss’s knuckles were white against the leather of the book she was clutching in her lap. “I don’t want that. I thought you’d want more from me too.”

“More?” Philippa scoffed. “Such as? Exclusivity? We both know…”

“It’s not about that!” Triss blurted out precipitately. “I don’t know. Maybe it is.” She took a deep, shaky breath. “All the relationships I’ve had, with other mages… It was always like this. No commitment. Intermittent flings, not caring what the other does or how long they’ll be around. But…” She relaxed her fingers, planted her eyes into Philippa’s. “It’s not enough. I don’t want to feel like I could walk out of here anytime and it wouldn’t make a difference; it wouldn’t matter to you. And I thought, after what I did, that you might be worried about that – about me leaving, or… But you’re not, so that can only mean…” Her voice trailed off.

Philippa looked up at the ceiling for a moment and smoothed her skirt. They were wasting time arguing over this non-issue which should have already been resolved and filed neatly away. It was a simple matter of Triss not _seeing_ what was so plainly on display, what Philippa demonstrated through her actions and words on a daily basis, even if they weren’t the exact words that Triss craved to hear.

“Do you plan on leaving?”

“I- no, of course not…”

“Then there’s no reason I should be worried.”

She brought her gaze back to Triss.

“When I say I want you here, it does mean I want you here. Although I wonder why I should keep repeating myself if you will just ignore my word in favour of your wrong assumptions.”

“But I _need…_ ”

“You need to trust me.”

She stood up and took Triss's hands, pulling her to her feet. She laced their fingers together and saw the tension that lingered on Triss's face melt away at the gesture.

“Will you trust me?” Philippa's voice was a murmur, smooth as leather, her gaze intent. She kept herself from smiling as Triss’s lips parted in rapt attention, her breath all but stilled in her throat. It was flattering to see how easily she could still charm her.

Triss must have noticed the air of satisfaction that Philippa exuded, for she blinked as if coming back to her senses.

“You're trying to distract me. Stop it.”

“I am doing no such thing.” Philippa freed one of her hands and slid it around Triss’s waist, pulling her close. “Answer the question.”

“Damn you.” Her back tensed then relaxed again in the other sorceress's hand, and she sighed softly in resignation. “Of course I trust you, Phil.”

She pulled back as Philippa leaned towards her for a kiss.

“I trust you to always try to weasel your way out of these discussions. You won't get away with it now.”

Philippa’s eyes went to the ceiling again and she let out an exasperated sigh.

“Very well. Come with me.”

“Where are you going?”

“If we’re to continue this conversation on your terms, I’ll want a bottle of wine.”

 

* * *

  

Triss remembered Philippa selecting a bottle from her cellar, then pausing for an instant and selecting a second one. She couldn’t remember when the vodka had come into play, but she could taste it in the back of her throat. She slowly lifted her head from the pillow and clapped her tongue against the unpleasant dryness in her mouth. At least her head wasn’t swimming anymore.

The moon was full and the curtains had remained open. Triss could see her surroundings clearly. She plucked Philippa’s stocking from atop the candleholder she used for a night light, and carefully moved Philippa’s arm which was lying across her chest so she could sit up. The sleeping woman barely groaned.

Triss lit the candle with an absent-minded wave of her hand and slid her legs out from underneath the covers. Before she could stand up, warm fingers made contact with her lower back, and a muffled voice enquired.

“What time is it?”

“It’s still dark. Go back to sleep.”

“Where are you going?”

“I’m hungry. I’ll have some bread and come back to bed.”

Philippa gave a low-pitched whine and brought both her arms over her face.

“Bring me some water.”

 

When Triss slid back into bed, having placed a tall glass of water on Philippa’s bedside, she was immediately drawn into an embrace, her back pressed against the other woman’s chest. Her body was incredibly warm after the cooler temperatures Triss had braved in the kitchen.

“Don’t you dare get up again until I do,” she mumbled against the nape of her neck.

“You’re welcome for the water,” Triss retorted with a yawn.

Triss could not remember if any progress had been made in the discussion she had pushed for the night before, if she had managed to get the declaration she wanted out of Philippa, or whether they had reached any sort of understanding regarding their expectations of one another. But right this instant, as her lover’s breathing slowed down to a soothing rhythm against her skin, she could not bring herself to care.


End file.
